Friday, November 19, 2010

A Funny Thing Happened On the Way Home

I was on the subway, reading Keith Richards' autobiography – it’s a good subway read because he is so frantic and all over the place when he is telling his life story that I can only take it in small doses before it gives me a headache – not really noticing anyone or anything around me.

As we approached my stop, and I approached a good place in my book to pause, I got up and headed for the door.

Already standing by the door was a guy, taller than me, smiling at me. I smiled back, to be polite, but then looked away.

He said hello.

I looked back up. “Hi.” Thankfully the train came to a stop and I could exit the train.

However my friend from the subway followed me. “Can I ask you a question?”

Further proof that I am not as horrible as some people take me for, I didn’t respond “umm, you just did.” But instead said, “sure.” And tried to twist my face into something that resembled engrossed.

“Are you single?”

I tried to catch myself from rolling my eyes, but I probably didn’t get it in time.

“I’m just wondering, because I’ve seen you. On the train and on broad street and even downtown and I wanted to talk to you …”

His stammering gave me a chance to think about my response. Normally when I’m sober and random strangers come up and ask me if I’m single, I lie and tell them I live with my boyfriend. What? I’m a single girl that lives in the city by herself. It is my first line of defense.

But as Thomas the Train Guy continued to enumerate all the different places he had seen me, I thought about how I can’t justify the waste of money that is online dating, and none of my friends have anyone they can fix me up with, and Salty’s firefighter husband refuses to fix me up with any of his firefighter friends, and I refuse to date anyone from my office, and it is damn near impossible to meet anyone of substance at a bar, so just how do I expect to meet someone if every time a guy approaches me I lie and tell him I am seeing someone.

So, instead I told Thomas the truth.

He walked me to my apartment, nervously chatting the whole way about nothing important. At some point he asked if I would like to grab coffee sometime and I said yes. When we got to my door, he had his phone and his business card out and eventually got around to getting my number and giving me his business card before we said good-bye.

That’s right. I gave Thomas the Train Guy my number. And yes, I realize he could be a deranged stalker and given his list of all the places he has seen me maybe that is something I should have considered earlier. But really, what could he do to me now that he has my number that he couldn’t do once he memorized my entire schedule? Plus, there is always my second line of defense – the Louisville Slugger I keep next to my bed.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Let Me Clear My Throat

I know. It has been awhile since I last wrote. I promise you, I can explain. Sort of.

See, I had a blog post prepared. Seriously, I did. I was just going to ignore the fact that I had been absent for so long and post this one piece (which I swear you will all be able to read tomorrow or the next day or even the same day, depending on when you read this), but then I was out tonight and was berated by friends and realized I just couldn’t pretend these past couple of weeks didn’t happen.

So, some of you know I used to have a column. Well, occasionally, I would use conversations and situations with friends and colleagues in this column to better make my point. Now, I thought I was being fair. I would never use my friends’ actual names nor would I ever physically describe them and sometimes I would even alter some of the details of our relationship to protect the innocent.

But then, towards the end of my run, a partner at my old firm, who I had mentioned in my column, approached me. It is important to note, he didn’t reproach me, he merely pointed out that while most people reading my column didn’t know I was talking about him -- he knew. More importantly, he worried about it; wondering who else knew it was him.

Call me daft, but I never thought about this side.

And I thought I got it -- until I posted about the Cowboy.

See, the Cowboy post took a lot out of me. It took me a lot to write it and even more to post it.

After I posted it, just moments after, Marie called me to gush about it and I anxiously asked, “Was it too much?”

Her response, “Oh god no. It’s just enough.” And then, because she is Marie, she went on to confirm that she thinks I should have hooked up with the Cowboy.

Still, I worried about it. Actually, that's not true. Only part of me worried about it. Only part of me worried it was too much. But that part of me also felt betrayed. That part of me felt like these were private thoughts, not for public consumption.

At this point feel free to roll your eyes. Because, yes, I realize that my blog is completely voluntary and that all of this is for public consumption. But the truth is, that while, yes, my blog is voluntary, and everything is for public consumption (though, to be honest it still shocks me that anyone reads this), it is an edited version of my life. However, the Cowboy post was a lot less edited than maybe I am comfortable with.

And I got even less comfortable with it as more and more people approached me with comments like, “Didn’t you say you wanted to be spanked?”

Or, “I read the Cowboy post, I know what you want.”

Or, “Giddy-up!”

I didn’t even say giddy-up. Marie said giddy-up and now people are saying giddy-up to me and I blush easily and I am just so embarrassed even if it was the most honest I have been and so now it is hard for me to write anything because I am afraid of what I might say, or what you might think or that I might not be able to ever top what I said before.

So, I wrote this. An explanation and an apology and a disclaimer. This blog is the truth, however it is not the whole truth. Because I need to keep a piece of me for me.

If that is okay with you -- keep reading. If not, I will understand.